


Buried Desires

by Groovehigh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groovehigh/pseuds/Groovehigh
Summary: Six month after the events with Eurus. Life is slowly getting back to normal at 221B and Mycroft might have found himself a new friend...Thanks to Catherine for the beta-reading :)





	1. Brother of mine is in trouble

Chapter 1 : Brother of Mine is in Trouble

Mycroft Holmes was walking home underneath the pouring rain, desperately trying to clear his mind from his horrendous evening. A few hours earlier he met with Lady Smallwood at a fancy restaurant for what was supposed to be their first date. But soon after listening to her complain about everything job-related for almost half an hour, Mycroft had decided to cut the dinner short and left the restaurant without a regard for the woman. 

He then went to his brother’s flat in Baker Street, hoping he would find some comfort talking to Sherlock. But he was welcomed by a screaming landlady, a desperate John and a very high, very drunk Sherlock. Of course he knew that his brother had trouble with his numerous addictions, but Sherlock had promised he would try to work on them. Of course he didn’t, much to Mycroft and John’s despair. 

Mycroft had always suspected the Doctor to have more than just amical feelings for his brother but wasn’t ever able to confirm his doubts. What he had seen tonight at the 221B flat provided ample evidence to reinforce that feeling. Sherlock was mindlessly talking about cases he had solved with John, alternating between a high-pitched voice, laughing, and screaming about “bloody assassins”. John had been sitting in his armchair for all that time, listening to Sherlock temper tantrum like always, but this time he was more affected than usual. 

Mycroft knew both men were having a hard time coping with the events that happened six months ago and led to the death of Mary Watson, the doctor's wife, and Sherlock’s rediscovery of his sister Eurus. Everybody involved in those events had been rocked by them, even Mycroft. But clearly the most affected one was Sherlock. Ever since Eurus has been put back into psychiatric care, he started using drugs again, no matter what John said or did. And it had increased to the point where Sherlock had already been taken to the hospital twice, in vain attempts by Mycroft to make him withdraw from cocaine. 

Seeing his little brother in such a state tonight was too much for Mycroft and he didn’t stay more than five minutes at 221B, too shocked to say anything. He needed time to process, so he decided to walk, despite the thunder and rain that was covering all of London. He didn’t even bother to open his umbrella, deciding that the water sliding down his body would cool his mind and help him cope with all the events of the evening. He was about to arrive at his apartment when he noticed somebody was sitting under the porch of the two-storey building, probably waiting for someone. He recognized Gregory Lestrade, Detective Inspector at the London police, at first glance (even though he hadn’t see the other man in six months.)

“Hi,” said the man “ You remember me ? I’m-”  
“Detective Lestrade,” cut in Mycroft “I am well aware of who you are. How did you find my address?”  
“John gave it to me.”  
“Doctor Watson?”  
“Yes. He found it in Sherlock’s things in the apartment. Saved it in case he needed it.”  
“And yet you’re the one down here. What brings you to the neighbourhood ?”  
“Duty. Have you seen Sherlock recently ?”  
“I’ve just come from Baker Street. My brother’s condition is… frightening.”  
“You’re not wrong,” answered Lestrade. “John wanted to keep an eye on Sherlock so he asked me to come speak to you. We need to do something.”  
“I already tried. But my brother is still resentful towards me. He won’t listen to a word I say.”  
“I know. John and Molly told me that.”  
“Molly?”  
“Molly Hooper, the morgue technician.”  
“Oh, right. I’d forgotten about her. Anyway, to my great displeasure and dismay there’s nothing I can do.”  
“Actually there is…”

Mycroft frowned at the other man and asked him to clarify what he had in mind. 

“Could we discuss that inside?” asked Lestrade, pointing at the rain still pouring heavily on their heads.

Mycroft sighed and opened the door so he and the DI can go inside the small building. Mycroft lead the way to his apartment on the second-floor and once the door was closed he took both their coats to hang them in the hall to dry. He then shook his head to eliminate the rain from his hair and invited the Inspector to sit in the living-room. 

“Whisky?” offered Mycroft.  
“Cheers,” answered Lestrade.

Mycroft poured two glasses of the finest scotch he has and handed one to Lestrade. The inspector started drinking it with a smile of contentment, the beverage warming him from the inside. 

“So you said I could help my brother?” Mycroft inquired.  
“Send agents to hunt down any drugs in the flat. Then John and Mrs. Hudson will take care of Sherlock.”  
“Couldn’t you do that yourself ?”  
“My boss does not want to hear a single word about Sherlock anymore. My hands are tied. I need someone to search for any drugs Sherlock has stashed away. John does not want to do it, and you know just as much as me that if any drugs are left behind, your brother will find a way to sneak away from John’s surveillance and get high once more.”  
“He’ll despise me.”  
“He already does,” said Lestrade, a bit too quickly. 

Greg had not wanted to say that, or at least not so bluntly. He could see the pain in Mycroft’s eyes even though the man was trying to hide it. In contrast to the twat and the show-off he usually resembled, Greg was surprised to discover that Mycroft cared so much about his brother’s love. 

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I wanted to say.”  
“No need for an apology. You’re perfectly right. My brother despises me. I suppose it is well-earned since I lied to him all these years…”  
Lestrade let the man think to himself for a while. When Mycroft started speaking again it was with a more assured tone. 

“I’ll do what has to be done tomorrow morning. We’ll get my “little bro” out of this mess soon.” 

Lestrade couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate name Mycroft called Sherlock. There’s probably much more between the two brothers than hatred and resentment. Probably a lot of love, and respect as well. Mycroft was lost in thought, and Lestrade could see the resemblance between him and his brother. Both of them were highly-educated and of above average intelligence. And both were powerful men. He finished his drink and got ready to leave but Mycroft said:

“You could stay for a while. Tell me stories I don’t know about Sherlock. I’m sure you have some…”

Greg stopped and took a long look at the man sitting in his armchair. Mycroft looked exhausted, and a bit sad. Probably because he’s not as close as he would like from his brother. Greg sat back in the opposite armchair and searched his mind for a story to tell. 

“Have you heard the one about his speech at John’s wedding ? When he rushed me to 221B because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say ?”  
“No, I’ve never heard of it…”

So Lestrade (began) to tell the story. Many drinks and many words were exchanged that night; about Sherlock mostly, but they also talked about John, and then about themselves. Surprisingly enough the two men, though very different, were getting along really well.


	2. Chapter two : A busy detective…

Contrary to John’s expectations, withdrawal hasn’t been that difficult. It’s been two and a half weeks since Sherlock’s detox period began. Reluctant at first, he would now willingly let John test his blood twice a day to detect any substance he might be taking. 

On the first day, when Mycroft’s men searched the apartment, Sherlock lost his temper to such an extent that one of them nearly ended up in the hospital because of the knife the detective sent flying through the living-room. After the feeling of ultimate betrayal had passed he calmed down and John had kept him busy with a new case while the agents were searching the apartment. In the afternoon, Sherlock was relaxed enough to play with Rosie while John and Mrs. Hudson were talking. Around midnight, when all the agents finally left the flat, no drugs were left behind. 

The next day was the hardest for John. He knew Sherlock would be mad so he dropped Rosie at Molly’s office and went back to 221B where Sherlock pinned him to the wall, shouting at him like never before. But once again this passed in time. 

Since then, Sherlock has not displayed any signs of severe withdrawal and even greeted his brother yesterday when he came to see how he was feeling. However he did not bother talking to him, letting John explain the situation. 

“JOOOOOHN!” yelled Sherlock from the kitchen.   
“Yes ?”  
“We’re out of tea.”  
“No, we’re not.”  
“We are now…”

John sighed and put his newspaper on the table, joining his friend in the kitchen. Rosie was sitting in her high chair, playing with her toys, while Sherlock was facing the sink, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Sherlock?” asked John, concerned.   
“I dropped the tea…”

John approached and realised that Sherlock had dropped their last batch of tea in the sink, probably because of his shaking hands. That's a lingering symptom of withdrawal so John reassured his friend.

“We knew this might happen. Don’t worry, we’ll get some tea at the supermarket.”  
“But I want some tea now.”  
“I’ll ask Mrs. Hudson for some, okay ?”  
“Okay.”  
“Stay with Rosie, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sherlock sighed and let himself drop into a chair next to his goddaughter who observed him solemnly. 

“You’ll be a detective like me later,” he told the child, “Or a soldier like your parents…”  
“Da-Da,” answered Rosie.  
“Yes, your DaDa has gone fetch us some tea. Did you know that tea is good for cerebral activity?”  
“Sherlock,” said John, entering the kitchen at the exact same time with two mugs of tea in his hands, “She cannot understand what you’re saying to her.”  
“Research has proven that children at an early age are capable of storing information and retrieving it later on in life. So I’m betting on your daughter’s future in some way.”

John couldn’t help but smile at the bond Sherlock has developed with Rosie. He took his godfather role really seriously and even insisted on giving her a bath or feeding her when John was tired and could use a moment of rest. 

Footsteps echoed down the hall and they both turned their heads towards the visitor who was catching his breath at the top of the stairs.

“Greg,” said John, “is someone chasing you ?”  
“I just… thought… I could use… some exercise…” said the man, still short of breath.   
“You sound like my brother,” observed Sherlock, “except that your presence is slightly more bearable.”  
Greg rolled his eyes and turned to John. 

“Is he good to be back in the field? I need him for a very complicated case.”  
“I think he is,” said John, while smiling at Sherlock. “And he’s in a far better mood when he keeps his mind busy.”  
“Fantastic!” Greg turned to Sherlock. “I need your help.”“You already said that,” replied the detective between two sips of his tea. “Describe the case.”

Lestrade sat down to explain while John freed Rosie from her chair and saher on his lap to give her some compote he had prepared this morning. She started eating solid food a month ago and John made it a point of honour to cook her baby food instead of buying ready-made from the supermarket. 

“Three blonde girls have been assassinated in the same neighbourhood in the past two weeks. We found them all dressed up, make-up done, but no sign of their underwear. We think the killer is some kind of fetishist who likes to keep sexual trophies from his victims.”  
“It seems obvious indeed. I wonder how many of your men thinking about that were required to reach such a conclusion,” said Sherlock.

John frowned at him and Sherlock added :

“Of course I wasn’t talking about you, Graham.” (New frown from John.) “I mean Greg. But please, go ahead.”

The cop continued explaining the case :

“ No witnesses of course, although the bodies were found near busy streets. We have no idea how he managed to leave them exposed like that without anyone noticing.”  
“How did he kill them ?” asked John   
“He slit their throat from ear to ear. But he cleaned the mess after that. No blood spilt, no stains on their dresses. He waits until the bleeding has stopped to clean their body and the wound.”  
“So he does not kill them on the spot?” wondered John.  
“Obviously not,” answered Sherlock before Greg could respond. “If he did there would be blood everywhere and he could be seen. He probably abducts his victims at an earlier time, kills them somewhere hidden and then stages the body where the victim is discovered.”  
“That’s the conclusion we also made,” pointed out Lestrade, “but for the time being we have a suspect in custody who vehemently denies having done anything to these girls.”  
“I need to question him,” said Sherlock.   
“That’s why I’m here,” replied Lestrade. “I hoped you would say that.”  
“Let’s go” said Sherlock, while standing up.  
“Give me five minutes, Sherlock,” replied John. “I need to get Rosie down to Mrs. Hudson.”  
“You should bring her with us,” said Sherlock.  
“To the police station? That’s no place for a child!” John was suitably shocked. “Wait for me, I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Twenty minutes later Lestrade, Sherlock and John exited a cab in front of Scotland Yard. The inspector has been telling them more about the the case on the way and Sherlock was deep in thought, trying to figure out what questions to ask. Lestrade could only guarantee him a few minutes with the suspect so he’ll have to be quick and concise. Both John and Sherlock follow Lestrade to the interrogation room, but only Sherlock enters. Lestrade and John stay outside and observe through the glass. They could also hear everything that is said through the intercom. 

“Who the hell are you?!” asked the suspect, a 27-year old man  
“I’m the guy who’s going to get you out of here.”  
“So you believe me?”  
“I believe you did not kill those women.”  
“Finally ! I’ve been saying that to your colleagues for the past ten hours!”  
“You did not kill those women, but you do know who did.”  
“What? I don’t know anything about it! Anything at all!”  
“You knew the second victim… no, the third one. Am I correct?”  
“ No!”  
“STOP LYING!” ordered Sherlock while he hit the table.   
“Okay, I knew her. Barely… she came to the bar I work in a couple of times.”  
“Alone?”  
“From what I recall, yes, but she was always hanging around the bar, hoping a guy would offer her a drink.”  
“And it did happen?”  
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”  
“Okay, thanks.”

And Sherlock walked out of the room. He said to Lestrade :

“That’s obviously not him. He’s gay.”  
“What?!”  
“This guy’s gay, he would kill men, not women” said Sherlock, exasperated.  
“How do you know he’s gay? You haven’t even asked him.” noted John.  
“Moriarty was gay, Mycroft is gay, I am gay, so if I say this guy is gay then he is gay.…”

His statement was greeted with an unusual silence and it took a whole minute for Sherlock to realize what he just said. 

“You’re… gay ?” muttered Lestrade.  
“Yes I am, but nothing to be afraid of, you are clearly not my type. Come on John, we’re going back home.”

John followed Sherlock without a word and it is only when they’re back at 221B that he dared to speak. 

“So you are… gay ?”  
“Why wouldn’t I be ?”  
“I don’t know…”

John fell silent once again and tried to process this new information about his best friend. He never really imagined Sherlock could be openly gay, or even conscious of his own sexuality. He always considered his friend to be asexual, completely dedicated to his work rather than interested in humankind. Sherlock was thinking about the case, and as he always does when he needs to think he was playing his violin in front of the window. John went downstairs to get Rosie back from Mrs. Hudson’s good care and returned to the flat. He sat down with his daughter on his lap and they both watched and listened to Sherlock’s serenade.


	3. Chapter 3 : A surprise visit

After a long day of work, all Gregory Lestrade wanted was a long hot bath and a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, he would not have that chance. Upon entering his apartment he noticed the door was unlocked, although he was sure he locked it before going to work in the morning. Grabbing the gun at his waist he slowly pushed the door open, then swiftly moved towards the living room. Someone was sitting there, in his armchair, a glass in his hand. 

“Stand up ! Hands behind your head ! NOW !”

The man slowly rose but instead of doing as he was told he started moving towards the gun aimed at him. 

“Do not walk a step more or I’ll shoot.”  
“If you shoot the British Government you’ll be in trouble, my dear…”

Greg recognized the voice immediately and lowered his weapon. He stretched his arm to turn on the light, illuminating the room, and said to the intruder :

“My God, Mycroft! You can’t just break into someone’s apartment like that. I almost shot you!”

Mycroft Holmes did not answer but grabbed a second glass on the table and handed it over to Lestrade. 

“And you should definitely not serve yourself a drink in someone else’s home,” he said, accepting the drink. “Anyway, to what do I owe this honour ?”  
“I wanted to thank you. I heard you put my brother on a very delicate and complicated case. It will keep his brilliant mind too busy to think about drugs.”  
“No worries. We could all use a little bit of genius in our lives.”

Greg chuckled and Mycroft smiled at this little phrase. The Inspector gets his coat down into the entrance and joins Mycroft back in the living-room

“By the way, how did you get in here?”  
“I asked the government for the key,” replied Mycroft with a wink.   
“Have you seen your brother lately?”  
“I stopped in at Baker Street 3 days ago. Sherlock looked quite good. John is taking good care of him.”  
“Yeah, that’s for sure. And it helps Sherlock a lot to have Rosie home, at least he has an occupation during the day. You should see him with the baby, he’s really different.”  
“I can’t believe my little brother is having a good time around a baby.”  
“That’s John’s baby, it makes all the difference.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Greg felt compelled to explain :   
“I mean… Sherlock and John… They have something… Some kind of bond that is beyond our reach…”  
“Do you think they could be together ?” asks Mycroft sincerely  
“John is claiming that they aren’t. And Sherlock is… being Sherlock about it…”

This time both men chuckle for a while, thinking about what “being Sherlock about something” represents. 

“My brother’s gay you know, finally declares Mycroft, the three of us are”  
“The three of you ?”  
“Eurus, Sherlock and me. Even though for Eurus it’s allegedly the truth, no one can really prove it since she’s mentally ill…”  
“I didn’t know you were…”  
“Gay ? You can say the word Lestrade, it’s nothing of an insult. I’ve always felt that way, since I was about twelve years old.”  
“Do your parents know about it ?”  
“Of course they do. I came out at 15, Sherlock at 16. They’re perfectly fine about it.”

Lestrade stays silent for a while, probably imagining the two brothers coming out to their parents. 

“So, you have a boyfriend ?” he finally asks   
“Being one of the most powerful asset of the government isn’t really wedding material unfortunately” answers the elder-Holmes  
“Being in the police isn’t either” adds Lestrade

He stands up and fetch two beers in his fridge. He opens them and gets back in his living room. He hands one beer to Mycroft and sits down in his armchair, already drinking his own. Mycroft stares for a while at the beer in his hand, looking confused.

“You don’t like beer ?”  
“It’s been awhile since the last time I drank one”  
“Then it’s time for that mistake to be fixed !”

Mycroft carefully takes one sip of his beer, expecting something bitterer than the sweet cold liquid going down his throat. Lestrade is observing him, without a word, just a curious smile on his face. 

“You’ll get used to it.”  
“I remembered something more… bitter”  
“This one’s good because it’s not too bitter. Your brother likes it as well”  
“My brother taste will never fail to surprise me”

Lestrade smiles and opens the first button of his shirt to be a bit more comfortable. He’s starting to appreciate Mycroft’s personality. He really can’t understand why Sherlock and John hate him so much. Except probably for the lies. Greg has been Sherlock’s confident after Eurus plan and from what he understood Mycroft had a role in everything that happened down there with their sister. And he lied to Sherlock almost all his life. 

“So, what sort of case did you entertain my little brother with ?”  
“Triple-homicide, a tricky-one, staged bodies, probably a freak because he dresses them up but no underwear…”  
“I bet Sherlock has already found the culprit”  
“Not even close to that. But he deduced our main suspect to be gay and therefore innocent. My boss was infuriated when I let the suspect walk free”  
“If Sherlock says he’s innocent, we can fairly believe he is. Although I don’t really see how being gay could be a motive for exonerate the guy…”  
“There’s a sexual dimension in those murders, therefore we think the suspect is a straight guy”  
“Fair enough…”

After a few minutes of silence from both of them, Mycroft says :

“I should probably go, you look tired, you should get some rest”  
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I’d be pleased to continue chatting with you…”

Mycroft hesitates long enough for his mind to race through all the innuendos the proposition implied. He dismiss those thoughts quickly and says : 

“I’m going home, but maybe another time ?”  
“Yes, for sure !”

Greg stands up to escort his guest to the door and both men shake hands before Mycroft goes away. During the ride home, in the cab, all he can think about are these weird thoughts he had just before leaving Lestrade apartment. It’s probably the beer playing tricks on his brain. Because for what he knows the DI is far from gay. Mycroft should probably be careful, not to mix friends and love.


	4. Chapter 4 : Just another day at 221B

When John woke up that morning, he knew immediately something wasn’t right : Rosie wasn’t in her bed. Rushing to the living-room, only wearing the briefs he wears to sleep, he finds her asleep in Sherlock arms. 

“Shhh, murmurs the detective, the little one was crying early in the morning so I took her with me to let sleep”

John’s heart is melting at the idea of Sherlock sneaking into his room to get Rosie before he wakes up. 

“I also made some tea” adds Sherlock with a nod at the kitchen   
“You’re wonderful”

John goes into the kitchen to find a fully prepared breakfast waiting for him on the table. As Sherlock his joining him, still with Rosie in his arms, he asks with a concerned voice

“How long have you been up Sherlock ?”  
“Since four in the morning. I couldn’t sleep. I know who’s the murderer.”  
“You do ?”  
“It’s the brother of the third victim. I’ll explain later. Eat now, then you do my blood test and then we meet with Lestrade to arrest the suspect”  
“About the bloodtests… I think we can reduce at one per day, in the evening”  
“If you wish so… I don’t really care, I’m clean anyway.” He pauses then adds pointing at Rosie “I have reasons to be”

When John opens the fridge to find some milk he nearly dies of a heart attack seeing the skull which usually sits on the mantelpiece inside of it. 

“Sherlock you can’t keep skulls in our fridge”  
“Why not ?”  
“That’s not what people do…”  
“I’m no ordinary people”  
“No you’re not” says John with a chuckle removing the skull and placing it on the table

John starts eating his breakfast and Sherlocks sits on the corner of the table, making sure his friend has enough to eat and drink. Rosie is asleep in his arms and he likes the contact of the tiny little hands of the girl resting on his shoulder. He never admitted it, but it pleases him to feel responsible for somebody. He makes an honour of taking care of the baby as if it was his own, because he still feels responsible for Mary’s death. As soon as John finishes his breakfast he stands up and gets his daughter from Sherlock’s arms. 

“She’s lucky to have you as her godfather” he says to Sherlock   
“I like her very much” replies the detective  
“I know” says John “I’ll get her back into her bed, I’m getting dressed and we can go see Lestrade alright ? Mrs Hudson will keep an eye on Rosie.”  
“I’ll be waiting for you in the living-room.”

Before exiting to go upstairs, John quickly hugs Sherlock, knowing that’s a sign of affection his friend is not well accustomed to. He goes back to his room and put Rosie back in her crib. He then fetch a dark blue jeans and a black shirt and get dressed. When he joins Sherlock in their living-room, the detective is already wearing his jacket and cap, ready to go. Before they grab a cab, John asks Mrs.Hudson to keep an eye on Rosie. During the cab ride, John sends a text to Lestrade so they can all meet at the third victim’s house. 

Twenty minutes later the three of them, alongside a few operative agents are ready to close down on the suspect and Lestrade to arrest him. 

“How did you manage to put 2 and 2 together again ?”  
“All the victims were looking almost the same, blond, blue eyes, pretty. That was a pattern. We already determined the sexual dimension, probably frustration. The rest is pure genius.”

John and Lestrade exchange a look and smile at the attitude of their friend. He's indeed a genius but usually don't like to be reminded of it. Maybe Sherlock is on the path for a change.

Couple hours later the suspect is behind bars and Sherlock and John are back to Baker Street. Molly has dropped by for some tea and she's waiting for them with Rosie at Mrs Hudson’s.

“My boys are back” exclaims the landlady “did you arrest the culprit once again ?”   
“Of course we did” says Sherlock “We always do !”  
“ ‘Lock ! ‘Lock !” screams Rosie in excitement when she sees the detective

With a huge smile, Molly puts Rosie in Sherlock arms and the little girl puts her head in the neck of her godfather. John can’t help but smile at this picture of the two person he loves the most being so cute together. 

“Did she eat since we left this morning ?” asks Sherlock  
“Not yet, answers Mrs.Hudson, we were waiting for you to get back home…”  
“I’ll get her something” says John 

While the blond man is absent Molly dares to ask Sherlock about something they can not talk in the presence of their friend :

“How’s he doing ?”  
“As usual, answers the detective, ups and down but being with Rosie helps him very much…”  
“And you ?”  
“I couldn't be cleaner. Totally off drugs. And cigarette.”  
“You stopped smoking ?!” exclaims Mrs.Hudson “Good God, being with John really improves your health”

Sherlock takes a little time to process what Mrs.Hudson said and he replies 

“We’re not a couple you know…”  
“Seriously Sherlock ?!, she exclaims once again, everybody knows you two are a thing”  
“For the millionth time Mrs.Hudson, says John entering the room, I’m not gay…”  
“Maybe you should be” mutters Molly 

John frowns at her and she giggles at his reaction. She then proceeds to kiss every single person present on the cheek and exits to go back to work. Sherlock takes the baby-food from John’s hands and proceed at putting it into a plate and in the microwave, still holding baby Rosie in one arm. 

“Why do everybody always assume I’m gay ?” finally asks John to Mrs.Hudson  
“Because you and Sherlock are legendary…” answers a voice coming from the apartment door  
“Mycroft ? What are you doing here ?” interrupts Mrs.Hudson   
“Came to ask my brother a few questions. The state needs his brilliant mind once again.”  
“I’m feeding my goddaughter, can’t you wait ?” answers Sherlock aggressively

Mycroft raises his eyes to the ceiling and John’s blood is boiling into his veins. He does not appreciate the way Mycroft is using Sherlock lately when he needs him and then delegates the care for Sherlock to himself. He stands up and goes to Mycroft. Gently pressing his hand on his shoulder he makes him walks back to the entrance of the building and says 

“Sherlock will call you back later. Now we need some family time.”  
“Family ?!” sneers Mycroft “I’m more family than you to Sherlock…”  
“Oh really ? You want to ask him who’s his family ?!” threatens John “Because I think I know bloody well the answer to that question !”  
“And you two are not even a couple…” replies Mycroft angrily “I’m leaving, tell Sherlock to call me in the afternoon… Please.”

John waits until he’s sure Mycroft is gone to slam the door and go back to Mrs Hudson’s flat. 

“God Sherlock I really hate your brother sometimes” he says while sitting down   
“This man is evil” adds Mrs Hudson nodding

Sherlock smiles but answers not. He loves his brother even though he is sometimes despicable. He is still feeding Rosie who thinks more about playing than eating. John leans towards her daughter and warns her kindly :  
“Rosie if you do not eat now I will not give you anything else until tonight”

As she clearly doesn’t want to eat John sighs and takes her daughter in his lap while eating himself. Mrs.Hudson made an excellent lunch and he ends up sharing his plate with his daughter. Sherlock has not eaten very much and Mrs.Hudson frowns at him, clearly concerned about his health. 

“Do not worry Mrs.Hudson, he’s eating enough, I’m monitoring that as well…”  
“You do ?” replies Sherlock clearly in shock  
“Of course I do. I do not only check for drugs in your system you know… I have a whole file on my laptop about you…”

Sherlock eyes widens and John quickly adds 

“For medical purposes of course !”

Mrs.Hudson can’t help but chuckle because her two boys look more like a couple than just friends. But unless John admits it, there will never be a move from the detective towards his friend. Even if he would clearly die for it…


	5. Two men in a crowded pub

Chapter 5 : Two men in a crowded pub

“I wasn’t sure you’d come” says Lestrade lifting his pint at Mycroft  
“I wasn’t sure I’d come either” answers the man looking carefully at his surroundings “it seems quite… wild around here”

Greg smiles at the preciousness of the man sitting next to him. To be fair, even if he had texted Mycroft earlier in the afternoon, proposing to join him for a drink after work, he wasn’t really hoping to get an answer, and certainly not a yes. But they were now sitting in a pub, in Camden, Mycroft sipping a whisky on the rocks, Lestrade drinking avidly a dark brown beer. He had had a rough day at the station today, and needed to relieve the accumulated stress and tension.

“How’s Sherlock ?”  
“Silent. As usual....” answers Mycroft “No news, good news ?”

Deciding this subject is not worth dwelling on for too long, Lestrade proceeds to change the conversation quickly 

“What exactly is your work for the government ?”  
“I’m the Government. I know almost everything about international threats and missions…” He pauses, not sure whether it is a safe subject for a crowded bar  
“No one is listening Mycroft” says Lestrade

 

Several drinks later, Mycroft proposes a break, he needs to smoke. 

“You’re smoking ?” asks Greg quite puzzled  
“Only when I drink” answers Mycroft with a smirk “do you want one ?”  
“Sure”

They both grab a cigarette in Mycroft’s pack and head outside to get some fresh air. Lestrade stills have his drink in hand. Holmes lit both cigarettes and they smoke in silence, gazing at the sky where the first stars start to appear. 

“It’s been a long time since I last had a drink with a friend”  
“I’m your friend ?” reacts Lestrade with a large smirk  
“I suppose so” says Mycroft “I never really considered it”  
“Let’s say I am then”  
“I like that.”  
“What ?”  
“Having friends. I’m not used to it. You may have noticed that social relations are not really running into the family”  
“You’re doing far better than your brother. He might have started a brawl by now because of some kind of deduction…”  
“I can well picture that. I bet he would have started with the couple that can’t stop kissing in that corner over there...”

They both chuckle before heading back into the pub. 

It was almost midnight when they exited the pub, heavily drunk. Mycroft had some beer after several whiskies and Greg drank all night, chatting in between two sips. Yet Mycroft was doing much better than Greg in keeping his balance on the pavement. It was not in his habits to drink that much, even though he liked to indulge himself with some fine alcohools when he was alone at home. He certainly did not drink in public. But the DI had that effect on him : weakening his inhibitions. 

“You should come sleeping at my place Greg, you definitely can’t drive like that”  
“It’s alright Myc’ I can drive”  
“No you can’t” answers Mycroft, barely holding Greg on his feet. “You’ll sleep on my couch”

Greg is laughing at every word Mycroft says, drawing the attention on both of them. Mycroft just hope that none of his acquaintances is wandering in the neighbourhood. After a short taxi ride during which Greg starts drifting to sleep on Mycroft shoulder, they arrive at the apartment. Clasping the handrail with both his hands, Greg ascend the two storeys to Mycroft’s flat. 

“You know Mycroft…” he starts  
“Tell me Gregory” answers the man with a large smile  
“I… I don’t remember” says Greg before bursting out laughing  
“Shhh Gregory. I have neighbours”  
“To hell with the neighbours !” screams Lestrade as an answer “You work for the government, they can not do anything against you…”

The only thing Mycroft finds in order to shut Lestrade up before he wakes the whole building is to press his lips against Greg’s mouth. He kisses him, and Lestrade, startled at first, kisses him back.  
Mycroft then puts all that is left of his willpower to break the kiss before it goes further. 

“I thought you wanted me” whines Lestrade  
“I certainly want you Greg, but not like that. And if we’re to spend the night together, I want you to remember it... “

He pushes Greg onto the sofa, remove his shoes and kisses him once more before the DI starts sleeping and snoring. Mycroft sighs and stares at him for a while. This night was one of the best of his life ; he really enjoyed speaking with Gregory. And he quite missed having a social life. He had been thinking of Greg ever since he visited him the first time. He had never let a man impact his life so much before, and Mycroft feels a bit disoriented by the unfolding of events. 

When Greg woke up the following morning, it took him a whole five minutes to understand why he was sleeping fully dressed on an unknown couch. Then he remembers the evening with Mycroft and realizes he slept in his flat. Yet he’s fully dressed. And Mycroft is nowhere to be seen. 

“Mycroft ?”

No answer. He notices a paper folded in half stuck under a steaming mug of coffee. it says the following : 

“Slam the door when you leave. Help yourself with breakfast. 

-M”

He would have hoped for something more impersonal. especially now that he remembers their kiss. He touches his lips, recollecting the soft touch of Mycroft’s mouth on his. He liked it. He liked being kissed. By him. Greg has not come out, although he knows deep down that he feels attracted by both men and women. But Mycroft was certainly out of his league. Too perfect for him. Drinking his coffee in one go he shakes his head and decide he should probably forget about that drunk kiss, that it meant nothing for Mycroft.


End file.
